A Father's Tale

A Father’s Tale

Trigger warnings: Mental health, substance abuse, physical abuse, and harsh language.

 “Ashik, what is wrong with you? How can you be so stupid?” I exclaim. Ashik looks over at the grey leather couch that I sat in. Dressed in baggy ripped clothes with stains on them, and a beer bottle in one hand. My son was lying on a white hospital bed with the couch across from me. The hospital put him on suicide watch after his attempt on the bridge. I continued to stare at Ashik, hoping for some sort of a reaction. The room was filled with the smell of alcohol. He turns his nose away from me and briefly shut his eyes. I scoff at the action. The smell was almost comforting but haunting at the same time. 

“Are you listening to me?” I say. Ashik, shakes his head, continuing to look at the white lifeless walls. “I’ve always known you were weak.” I chuckle and drink the bottle of beer, savoring the taste. 

“You don’t know anything. You don’t know who I am or the life I’ve created for myself.” Ashik grits his teeth in annoyance. 

“I don't? Then why did you try to end your life on that bridge? Why is your wife at home and you’re stuck in this room like you're watching paint dry?” I say to Ashik. He needs to learn to stand up. A man gains nothing by sitting around, or at least that is what I was told. My blood feels like it’s boiling and the heat rushes up to my ears as I clench my teeth. Ashik screams and throws the vase that once had flowers in it towards the wall. The vase had shattered with pieces flying everywhere. Rina had gifted him a get well soon bouquet. The carnation flowers were already dead, the petals brown and brittle now on the floor. My heart clenches as my breath hitches. 

“You've always been an angry child.” I stare at Ashik. I want to get under his skin. Make him feel something that I once felt. 

“That's rich coming from you. Didn't you abuse your wife almost every night?” His replies back getting more aggressive by the second. There we go, I see it in my son’s eyes. The way it darkens, not an ounce of light shining through.

“Your mother deserved it. Could never do anything right.” I choke out a laugh and shake my head.  

“Mother was defenseless. She screamed every night. Yet, you kept hurting her. All she wanted was to make you happy.” Ashik let’s out a small sob, trying to choke back his tears.

“Are you crying again? Do you need a good beating as well? I swear, son, all you know how to do is cry.” I feel my back tense. A familiar feeling of despair comes along. My skin is cold and my jaw clenches. Ashik needs to understand that in the end, he will be okay. Just as I am… 

“Do you remember when you were a child and you came home late from school?” I say, looking at the empty beer bottle. “I beat the living crap out of you. It was one of the funniest days of my life. But also the most tragic. I was so angry, but I was not angry at you, son.” I turn towards Ashik. A lump in my throat has begun to form. 

“Then why did you beat me? For fun? To fuel your ego?” Ashik whispers under his breath. I was gripping my hands, nails digging deep drawing blood. 

“Your grandpa beat me on fathers day. I came home late one day because of a school project. I was stuck at the library all day, determined to get the project perfect and ready for presentations the day after. Because, I came home late, he was angry. So angry I saw the fumes coming out of his ears almost like he was in a cartoon. Your grandmother watched. She was too scared to step in. But hey! She comforted me after.” I sigh. Ashik looks up at me with glossy eyes. It sends a wave of de ja vu through the air.  

“You saw me in you.” Ashik comes to a realization, making eye contact with me. My hands are shaking, and the room is spinning. Ashik stood up for the first time in what felt like days and began to walk towards the couch that I was sitting on. My hands are gripping the sides of the cushions. “You beat me senseless as mom watched. You beat me almost every day until mom finally got sick of it and died from the stress. You killed her.” Ashik continues on as my vision becomes blurry. At this point I was internally screaming. Blood is all over my hands from digging into them earlier. Some droplets on the pearly white marble floor. 

“Grandpa beat me. It was your turn. It was to make you into a man.” I say in a shaky tone. My dad beat me every single day. His hands would rest on my shoulder after and tell me that he was sorry. Sometimes, he’d even buy me food to make up for it. 

“A man? Do I have to beat to be considered a man? To have my blood on the hands of my father? Is that what defines a man?” Ashik’s voice raises with each syllable. He steps closer to me until we were only a couple inches apart. “All I wanted was for you to love me.” He whispers in a sad tone. ‘All I wanted was for you to love me’ plays in my head repeatedly. I loved my father. He showed me what power was and how to obtain it. But, he also showed me what power can do to you. Every day. I thought he couldn’t give two craps about me. Begging him to love me silently every time I felt the smack of whatever weapon he was holding that day. Maybe, he did love me, which is why he kept pushing me. That way, no one would ever step all over me. 

“Ashik.. I do love you.” I let out the first cry in 30 years. “My son, you are my son..” I pull him into a hug.

At least that is what I want to do. Instead, I walk out of the room in silence, not daring to look back.